


Confession

by Mizmak



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Short & Sweet, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles, yet another variation on my apparent need to write soppy love scenes using different scenarios
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21683596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizmak/pseuds/Mizmak
Summary: The effects of the body swap were exhausting...so Crowley and Aziraphale need a nice long rest together to recover.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 155





	Confession

Confession

(a short and sweet bedroom snippet)

Aziraphale discovered that changing into each other’s bodies, and then changing back, was a process that apparently caused a delayed exhaustion. He and Crowley had spent the day together after switching back – dining, strolling, talking, dining again – and that same night Crowley had pulled up the Bentley to Aziraphale’s bookshop at a late hour to drop him off when a wave of tiredness hit them both hard.

“I don’t think I can move.” Aziraphale pushed on the door handle, and managed to get the door open, but his feet felt like lead.

“Didn’t think I drank _that_ much,” Crowley replied.

“It’s not alcohol. I know what that feels like. This is different.”

“No energy…never felt this slow before. Don’t even think I can drive home.”

“Stay here, then.” Aziraphale tried to get out of the car, got halfway up, and then slumped back. “This is awful. Wonder if it’s to do with the body changing….”

“Must do.” Crowley took a deep breath, opened his door, and heaved himself up. He staggered, but managed to stay upright. “Concentrate…you have to think hard about every movement.”

Aziraphale focused his attention on each major muscle, willing them to work. After a few seconds of intense concentration, he was able to stand. He shut the car door and took a tentative step towards the bookshop, feeling horribly unsteady.

Crowley staggered round to help him. He slid an arm round Aziraphale’s waist, and together they slowly made their way inside.

Once there, Crowley guided him to the sofa, where they both collapsed. Aziraphale took long, deep breaths to steady his shaking body. Angels shouldn’t feel this way, he thought. Most unusual. Had to be the extra effort of the body swap, even though they had finished the process hours and hours ago. “Delayed effect,” he said. “Maybe it was all that alcohol we drank today…I mean, we were probably supposed to spend time recovering from such a major magical effort, and we didn’t, and all that drinking made everything worse.” 

“I’m going to sober up then.” Crowley’s brow furrowed fiercely as he did so, and wine suddenly started pouring into the little sink in the office.

“Good idea.” Aziraphale followed suit, and afterwards he _did_ feel better. He had more strength, though not back to normal. “I think I can at least walk on my own now.” Not that he wanted to – he reveled in the memory of Crowley’s arm around his waist.

“Yeah, but can you manage stairs?”

“Oh. Not sure.” His bedroom was upstairs. 

“Come on, then, let’s get you to bed.” Crowley stood and held out his hand.

It wasn’t as if they hadn’t touched each other in six thousand years – accidentally, or perhaps not always accidentally – but this intimacy was quite new. They slowly navigated up the stairs, arm in arm, and then down a short hallway, through a small sitting room and into Aziraphale’s bedroom. The large four-poster bed was from Victoria’s reign, loaded with plush comforters and pillows and bolsters all in satin and velvet and down-filled luxury because he’d always had a taste for the finer things.

Crowley had never set foot inside before, so Aziraphale waited for a sarcastic remark on his decorating style. 

He must have been seriously tired, for all he said was, “That looks comfy.”

Surprised, Aziraphale replied softly, “Stay then. You’re in no shape to drive.”

And to his even greater surprise, Crowley did not resist in the slightest. 

So they undressed and climbed into the bed, lying side by side, not touching but certainly more intimate than ever before. Aziraphale sighed, content. And, thoroughly worn out from the day, he fell rapidly into a deep sleep.

When he opened his eyes again it was still dark. He felt his normal self again, all exhaustion fled. He felt very good, and even more than that, he felt loved – for though he hadn’t moved, Crowley had – no longer lying next to him on his back. Instead, Crowley had turned onto his side, facing Aziraphale, and had shifted over as close as he could get, with one arm flung across Aziraphale’s chest and his head resting on his shoulder.

_A little miracle…._

Crowley’s eyes were closed, so Aziraphale simply lay there as quietly as possible, listening to Crowley’s slow breaths. _Don’t move. Please._

He lay there a long time, warm in the comfort of the embrace, not wanting it to ever end. How long had they belonged together – sometimes it seemed to him that they had never belonged apart, Heaven and Hell notwithstanding.

Then Crowley shifted slightly, and stretched the arm that encircled Aziraphale before settling back down, wrapped tightly round him still. He yawned, and opened his eyes, and tilted his head up. “What time is it?”

“Don’t know.” Aziraphale paused. “Don’t care.”

“Mm. All right.” Crowley lay his head back on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Aziraphale swallowed, hesitating. Could he do it – could he speak the truth at last…. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them, and looked at Crowley, who may have fallen asleep again or may have not – either way, he couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“I love you,” he whispered. There. He’d finally said it, after all these years. _Don’t turn away. Please don’t move._

Crowley didn’t shift a muscle. He said softly, “As if I didn’t know.”

_Ah…_ Aziraphale felt release…though not complete… there were regrets that caused a lingering sorrow. “But I said things –“ _We’re not friends. We have nothing in common. I don’t even like you_. “Things that weren’t true.” He felt tears course down his cheek. “I thought Heaven was watching.” It had been unbearably painful, not to speak the truth.

Crowley raised his head slightly, looked at him, and then brushed the tears away. “Nobody’s watching now.” Then he brushed his lips against Aziraphale’s cheek. “I understand, and it’s all right.”

Aziraphale choked back more tears. “Thank you.” He lay his arm atop Crowley’s. He loved him, and that was wonderful, even if Crowley never said it in return. He showed it, and that ought to be good enough, though truthfully, it wasn’t quite enough. He did feel a lingering ache for more. 

“Angel?” Crowley was still looking at him. “Everything _is_ all right, isn’t it?”

“Yes…I mean…mostly.” He couldn’t _ask_ him to say it, could he? What if that turned everything all wrong? 

“What do you mean, ‘ _mostly_ ’?” 

He did want to ask. He had to – otherwise they would go on the same way, not fully complete together. Surely there was love on Crowley’s part, there must be, but could he actually say it – would he admit it, or would he keep that forever hidden? 

“I mean,” Aziraphale said slowly, carefully, “Well, it’s just that…you don’t ever say…I mean, it’s something I’ve wondered for a long time…if you truly do –“ He gulped, knowing more tears would come. “If you truly do love me back.” 

And then he waited – he waited for Crowley to break the embrace, waited for him to laugh or to be dismissive or worse, to deny – he waited for anything except what finally came.

“I asked you to run away with me to the stars,” Crowley replied. “If that’s not a declaration of love, I don’t know what is.” Then he brushed away Aziraphale’s tears once more, and said, “Of course I love you.”

“ _Oh_ ….” _All this time…._ Aziraphale turned onto his side to face him, still embraced tightly, and he touched Crowley’s face gently. Then he kissed him – not on the cheek or the forehead but on the lips, and then he opened his mouth for a deeper touch, and felt a warmth flood through him – there was nothing he felt right now but love flowing strongly between them, and it stayed between them long after the kiss itself ended.

They simply lay in each other’s arms then, and that was their first night together – but it was not their last.


End file.
